


The Unholy Dark

by Azertygod



Series: Wait. [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Dark, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, I promise, Inpatient Programs, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Better, Kent Parson has Issues, Ngozi promises, No Character Death, No Sexual Content, Not Canon Compliant, Post 3.26, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13491438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azertygod/pseuds/Azertygod
Summary: See, Kent knows how therapy works.It’s a game, and just like hockey, it’s all about what you give up. What information you telegraph to throw your opponent off the scent.Lose control, lose the puck, and you can’t score. You can’t get out.





	The Unholy Dark

_ But remember when I moved in you _

_ And the unholy dark was moving too _

_ And every breath we drew was Hallelujah _

 

“How are you feeling today, Kent?”

Kent could be better.

No answer forthcoming, the dark-skinned woman leans back in her chair, throwing one leg over the other. “Kent,” she says, “I know you don’t want to be here, I know you don’t feel like this is helping, and I know you want to leave.”

_ And I know that if we let you leave, you’d be lying on a coroner’s table within the day  _ goes unsaid.

“Jeff-” she starts

“Swoops.” It’s the first time Kent has said anything to anyone after breaking down in Jeff’s arms and being taken to the ER. He doesn't really remember much after Jeff sat him down on his couch and asked whether he need to go the the emergency room. Whatever he said, it must not have been that convincing. He had always had trouble lying to Jeff.  

“Swoops,” she begins again, “wasn’t really able to give us much information as to why you were not doing so well last night. I’d really appreciate it if you could tell us why you were feeling so desperate.” A pause. “Is it problem with work?” 

And by that of course, she means  _ are you so fucked-up about hockey that watching another team win the Stanley Cup made you literally try to kill yourself? _

It wasn’t the Stanley Cup, it was  _ Jack. _ But Kent can’t say that, cause then she’ll  _ know _ , and if she knows then it won’t be long before everyone else knows, and then he’s just hiding behind a tree in a dark forest waiting for the gunman come around and shoot. 

“I’m perfectly fine with waiting here with you, Kent. I just want to make sure that you’re safe.”

“Have you ever had a recurring nightmare?” Kent says, shocked that his mouth saw it fit to say that bombshell of sentence.

“I suppose I have.” With no response forthcoming, she continues, “My most frequent one centered around forgetting that I had a test right as the teacher started handing it out. I still have it, funnily enough.” She smiles at him, hoping for a positive reaction. 

She won’t get one. Not yet, not when Kent is still figuring this whole thing out. See, Kent knows how therapy works. It’s a game, and just like hockey, it’s all about what you give up. What information you telegraph to throw your opponent off the scent. 

Lose control, lose the puck, and you can’t score. You can’t get out.

Right now, it’s like a preseason scrim, trying to test out the opponent’s new lines without giving to much of yourself away.  

“What made you think of that, Kent?” She leans forward, sure that this will be her breakthrough.

“Can I go back to my room? ” Kent asks. It’s simple, and there aren't any knives or shoelaces or pills or even a good drink, but it’s away from everyone else. Away from the shrink, from the questions, just him and his thoughts. Though actually, maybe he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. They have a bad habit of getting him in trouble. 

“I was hoping to get a little more insight about why you were thinking about suicide,” She says, her blunt tone making it all the more brutal. 

Kent flinches.  _ Shit. _ That was a massive fucking neon sign if he’s ever seen one. And yep, there it is, her careful note on the massive yellow notepad that he believes must be standard issue to any shrink. Scratch that, he would much prefer to be with his thoughts. But now she’s waiting, expectant, and he knows how to do this. He knows how to deflect. He knows how to evade, obfuscate, and distract.  

“I just wasn’t in a good place, mentally, I guess,” Kent says. She raises an eyebrow before quickly regaining her composure. It almost makes Kent laugh.

“And”, she prods, “what was causing this unease?”

“Look, Ms…”

“Just Chloe, please.”

“Chloe, could we not talk about this right now? I feel… tired,” Kent continues. Play to her emotions, she’s a doctor, right? She wants what’s best for her patients, and if he can convince her that the best thing for him to go back to his room, he’ll get a little more time to figure out how to get out, and- 

Well. He doesn’t really know what he’s going to do once he gets out. Hell, he doesn’t even know what’s going on outside the sterile cream-colored walls of the mental health wing, they confiscated his phone. He might have even gotten some messages. From the front office- they would be checking in with a statement of support, he was sure. From the team, maybe, though they probably not know anything about this whole clusterfuck. If he opened up his twitter, he had no doubt he would be buried under the normal post-Stanley deluge. In fact, the whole… Jack thing probably hadn’t even fully started to hit him yet. 

But it was coming. His phone number was private, but his twitter handle wasn’t, and he was very easy target. You could almost swap Jack’s new boyfriend with Kent, it wouldn’t take anyone very long. And all he could do was  _ wait _ for it all to come crashing down. 

“Well, I would really appreciate it if you could tell me a little bit more about what is troubling you. I think that would be really helpful to both me and you,” she says, giving him a soft smile. 

“Have you ever had a nightmare where you are hiding from someone who wants to kill you, and you’re behind a tree, and you  _ can’t fucking move _ , cause then they’ll see you and shoot you, but if you stay where you are they’ll come around the side and shoot you, and you can’t run, and you can’t hide, and there is no help coming, and the fear is rising and rising and rising and you can’t do anything about it?”

And he thought his first question was bad. 

She leans back, appraising him. 

“No one is trying to kill you, Kent, but I think you know that. Why do you feel so hunted?” 

Hmm, let's think about that, Chloe, Kent thinks.  Maybe it’s because his team just watched another hoist the cup, nevermind that they never even got to the finals, and the press and the front office will be out for blood! Or, maybe it’s because he’s in a inpatient program in Las Vegas, home of the paparazzi, and he can’t hope to keep that “medical secret for long. Or, maybe it’s because he just tried to commit suicide, and he has random people watching his every move. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s a closeted gay dude in one of the most homophobic sports in the nation who has got by the last 7 years through a mixture of aggressive self-medication, cat ownership, and too frequent to be safe but not frequent enough anonymous hook-ups. 

And, to top it all off, the only person who he ever loved, and hated, and hated that he loved and loved his love so, so much, just came out on national television and it wasn’t with Kent and it wasn’t when he wanted it and he knows what’s coming next. 

But Kent doesn’t say any of that, because he’s not a fucking idiot. 

Instead, he tells the truth- he’s tired, slightly hungry, and all he wants to do is is go to sleep and so he tells her-

“I’m gay. And I want to take a nap.”

_ Fuck. _

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm back! This is the second work in what will hopefully be a three part series. Each part will stand on it's own, so if the third part doesn't happen you will still have closure. (Don't worry!)
> 
> This will probably have 3 short chapters.  
> Lyrics are deliberately wrong from the Jeff Buckley version (i.e. the only version that matters)  
> I love Kent dearly. He is my little baby and I want him to be happy.
> 
> Also- I have never been in inpatient. If I messed up, please tell me.  
> On that note - Please please please leave feedback in comments. Be as critical as you want.  
> Thanks love bye


End file.
